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VOLUME 1. Devoted to Total Abstinence, Moriils, Education, Literature, Useful Arts, Domestic Economy, and General Intelligence. NUMBER 12.
Strictly Tee-total, and Exclusive of all Matters of a Political or Sectarian CUaracter, and of all Advertisements of Intoxicating-drinlc-selllng Establishments. by george cochran & co.] WASHINGTON, D. C., AUGUST 23, 1845. [fifteen cents per month. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY GEORGE COCHRAN & CO., WASHINGTON CITY, D- C. PUBLICATION OFFICE ON SIXTH STREET, SOUTH OF PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. TERMS OF ADVERTISING. ONE SQUARE, one insertion, FIFTY cents, or FOUR insertions for ONE DOLLAR. ONE SQUARE, 3 months ..... $2 50 i? ?i 6 u 4 00 u u 12 " 7 00 Longer advertisements in proportion. 83T FOURTEEN lines, or under, called a square. BUSINESS CARDS, of SIX LINES, will be conspicuously inserted for FOUR DOLLARS per year, in advance. JKT Apothecaries, Stationers and others, wishing a column or half column, will be accommodated at the lowest rates. POBTIOAL FOUNT. " Here Nature's minstrels quaff inspiring draughts." THE WASHINGTONIAN CALL. Tune? When I can read my title- clcar. Come, join tho Washingtonians, Ye young men bold and strong, And with a proud and cheoring zeal, Come help the cause along: O, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful; O, that will be joy ful, when young men drink no more, When young men drink no more : 'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring, When young men drink no more. Come, join the Washingtonians, Ye men of riper years, And save your wives and children dear From want and bitter fears : O, that will be joyful, joyful, joyfnl; O, that will be joyful, when strong men drink no more, When strong men drink no more : j 'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring, When strong men drink no more. Come, join the Washingtonians, Ye men of hoary heads, And end your days where temperance Its peaceful influence sheds: O, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful; O, that will be joyful, when old men drink no more, When old men drink no more: 'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring, When old men drink no more. Come, join the Washingtonians, Ye dames and maidens fair, And breathe around us, in our path, Affection's hallowed air: O, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful; O, that will be joyful, when woman cheers us on, When woman cheers us on, to conquests not yet won ; 'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring, When women cheers us on. Come, join the Washingtonians, Ye who distil and sell The poison that destroys the health, And brings the fatal spell: O, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful; O, that will be joyful, when the still is worked no more? , When the still is worked no more, in all our Happy shore; 'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring, When the still is worked no more. Come, join the Washingtonians, Ye sons and daughters, all, Of this our own America, Come at the friendly call: O, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful; O, that will be joyful, when all shall proudly say When all shall proudly say, " Away the bowl, away;" 'Tis then we'll sing, and offerings bring, When all shall own our sway. The following lines were taken from an old work, that is well adapted to some of the present day. How many become so stuck up with their wealth as to forget that they stand upon the same platform with the more unfortunate. Listen to the poet's description of a grave scene : A DREAM. MI dreamed that buried in my fellow clay, Close by a common beggar's side I lay? And as so mean a neighbor shocked my pride, Thus like a corpse of consequence I cried : Scoundrel, begone, and henceforth touch me not More manners learn, and at a distance rot. Now, scoundrel, in a haughtier tone cried he, Proud lump of earth, I scorn thy word and thee ; Here all are equal, now the c ase is mine, This is my rotting place, and that is thine. SAFETY-BONDS. "The pledge tee total has its millions sav'd." SilMMIL PH.1BEI. We promise to abstain from all intoxicating drinks, and to discountenance the cause and practice ol Intemperance. This youthful band Do with our hand, The pledge now sign To drink no Wine, Nor Brandy red PLEDGE OF THE JUVENILE COLD WATER ARMY OF THE DISTRICT. Nor fiery Rum To turn our home Into a Hell, Where none could dwell? Whence peace would fly, To turn the head, j Where hope would die, Nor Whiskey hot And love expire That makes the sot, | 'Mid such a fire; So here we pledge unceating hate, To all that can intoxicate. PLEDGE OFTHE SONS OF TEMPERANCE. I, without reserve, solemnly pledge my honor as a man, that I will neither make, buy, sell, nor use as a beverage, any Spirituous or Malt Liquors, Wine, or Cider. PLEDGE OF THE UNITED BROTHERS OF TEMPERANCE. No brother shall make, buy, sell, or use, as a beverage, ?ny Spirituous or Malt Liquors, Wine or t ider. POPULAR SELECTIONS. " From grave to gay, from lively to severe." THE TUTOR AND THE PROPRIETOR. AN AMUSING STORY. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE "GREAT METROPOI.IS." We passed pretty near a house which was a short time ago the scene of an incident which, in the hands of a skilful novelist, might be so spun out as to make the orthodox three volumes. In that house there lived?I ain not sure that he does not still reside there?an eccentric old rich landed proprietor. His own dress and manners were plain, and his modes of life home* I ly; but, intending a handsome fortune for each of his family?two sons and a daughter?it was his great ambition to give them a first rate ed ucation. The daughter, being the eldest, had returned from one of the first boarding schools, quite an accomplished lady. He doated on her, and fully made up his mind that she should either be married to a man of rank and impor tance in the world, or not married at all. For the two 6ons, as lie said, that they might be educated under his own eye, and that he might seo that full justice was done to them, he em. ployed a talented young man, whom the old eccentric gentleman constantly lauded to the skies for his exxeeding modesty of manner. Things went on for a season as smoothly as either party could wish, the tutor growing ev ery hour in the good gracee of his patron. ,He became, in fine, a confirmed favorite, and was. in every respect, "treated as one of the family." One day after dinner, the modest tutor, (there being no one present but themselves,) said to the old gentleman, in hesitating accents, scarce ly venturing to raise his head as he spoke, that he wished to consult him confidentially for a few moments, on a ve|;y important and delicate matter, and to get his advice as to how he ought to act in the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed. "Quite ready to hear you, sir, and to give you the best advice in my power," observed the other, who had always been remarkable for his rough, blunt manner of speaking. "I really do not know how to begin, I'm almost afraid to mention the thing to you," re marked the tutor, tying and untying a piece of twine in his fingers, on which he kept his eyes thoughtfully fixed. "Oh, don't be afraid, sir, out with it. It's nothing horrible, I hope." " Oh, dear, no." " Well, then, let us hear it at once." " It's about an affair of the heart." " Ah! an affair of the heart! Ah, I see you young men know' something about these mat ters. It's long since I had an affair of the heart, though I have plenty of other " affairs " far more serious; but young men must be young men ; yes, they must. Come tell us all about this affair of the heart. This love story?this affair of the heart; you have fallen in love with some pretty girl, and wish to marry her, I sup pose." The tutor owned the soft impeachment. " Well, and why not marry her?" "That's just the point about which I wished to consult you." " Is she an amiable girl ?" " The very perfection of every thing that is morally good, and mentally excellent." " So, so. And belongs to a respectable family." "A very respectable family. Indeed, she moves in a better sphere of life than myself, and her family are 60 respectable, that any gen tleman might and would be proud to be con nected with it." "Then why, you spalpeen, don't you marry her at once?" said the old man, raising his right leg, and placing it on an adjacent chair. " But I have not yet obtained the consent of her father," replied the tutor, speaking in a seemingly subdued and timid tone, and not having courage enough to look his patron in the face. "Then why, sir, don't you obtain it?" " I'm afraid to ask it." " Why afraid to ask? Don't be a coward." " I'm afraid, because she assures me that she knows her father would never give his concur rence to her marriage with one who is entirely without means, and has nothing but his educa tion and good moral character to recommend him." M Does she speak confidently on the point?" * Oli, most confidently. Site is quite pos itive." " Quite sure, eh ?" " Perfectly certain." " No chance of the father yielding ?" " Not the slightest." " Is he an old inan ?" " He is advanced in years." " Then, sir, he must be an old fool. Do I know this stupid piece of antiquity?" " Intimately." " And for some time ?" " For very many years." "Do he and his daughter reside in this neighborhood ?" " They do." " Is it a fair question to ask the old idiot's name ?" " I would rather not mention it in existing circumstances." " Oh, very good, very good. I would not press you, not by any means?I say !" The love struck tutor was all attention. " Listen to me, sir. Lend me your ears." "I will, with the greatest pleasure." " What I am going to say is worth hearing." " I am anxious to hear it." "I'll tell you what you'll do." "I shall be most grateful for your advice in so trying a situation as that in which I ain placed." " Is the young lady very much attached to you V* " I have no reason to doubt the ardor of her affection." " Would she elope ; that is, run away with you ?" "She is willing to do anything." "Then, sir, your course is clcar. Carry her off and get married at once." "I'm afraid of offending the old gentleman, her father." "Oh! the old gentleman, her father. Never mind him, if you can get the girl herself." "And would you really advise me to run aw?*y with her? I would not like to take so important a step without your approval." " Would I advise you ? I do advise you, and let it be done directly, sir. Why, sir, you have no pluck or spirit about you, or you would have done it before now. Thunder and light ning! old as I am, sir, I would do it myself. You do it at once." " I was anxious to consult you on so delicate a matter." "Well, sir, you now kuow my opinion and have got my advice. Don't be faint-hearted, sir, get up early and elope with the lady to morrow morning; and take my horse and gig for the purpose. They are quite at your ser vice, very much at your service." "I am really under infinite obligations to you for the deep interest you have taken in the matter. I'll adopt your advice, and avail myself | of your kind offer of your horse and gig to en able me to carry her off." "Do, sir, do; and mind you do it effectually. Let there be no mistake, no failure in the mat ter. Success to you in your enterprize. Let me know when you have made the young lady your wife." "I will, with the greatest possible pleasure." On the following morniug, the old gentle man summoned his daughter, as was his cus tom, down to breakfast, he stationing himself on the occasion, at the foot of the stairs. No response was made to his first summons. " What do you mean, you lazy, indolent huzzy, that you don't come when you're call ed?" bawled the old and eccentric personage, in the way of continuing his first call. Still there was no answer. "You are sound asleep, I suppose. Why don't you get up and come down directly ? Do you hear?" " 1 say, you indolent, good-for-nothing piece of goods, why don't you "?<? "Please sir, interposed an out-door man-ser I vant, who had just entered the hall, " please sir, I saw Miss and the tutor driving away this morning at five o'clock, in your gig. And more t than that, plase yer honor, they (horse, gig, and I all,) seemed as if they were in a dreadful hurry. They were, indeed, sir." The old man audibly groaned, and sank down on the stairs. The truth flashed into his mind. It was his own daughter who had eloped with the tutor, in obedience to his own advice, ten dered to the latter so emphatically on the pre vious day. From the New York Tribune. HOW A TAILOR COLLECTED A DEBT. A TRUE STORY. Near the close of the last century, a Qauker , knight of the shears and thimble, who exer-, cised the avocation in Philadelphia, was im posed upon by an adroit scoundrel, who con trived to get a suit of clothes on credit, and afterwards sloped without paying for them. The Quaker was too poor to lose the debt, but like too many others of his cloth, he had ap parently no other alternative. The account was placed on his books, and soon forgotten. Some years afterwards he was examining his old records of debt and credit, profit and loss, when his attention was attracted to ihis ac count, and all the circumstances attending it, came fresh to mind. Suddenly an odd thought suggested itself. " I'll try an experiment," said he to himself; " perhaps I may succeed in catching the rogue and getting my pay." He immediately prepared an advertisement in substance as follows, which he inserted in the Philadelphia Gazette: "If J C , who was in Philadelphia about the month of , in the year 1795, will send his address to the editor of this paper, he will hear of something to advantage. Printers in the neigh boring States are requested to copy." The lat ter clause was inserted from a vague suspicion that the rogue had taken up his abode in New York. Having instructed the editor not to disclose his name to the rogue, if he should call, but to request the latter to leave his address, the Quaker patiently awaited the result of his ex eriment. In a short time he was informed, y a note from the printer, that the individual alluded to in the advertisement, having arrived from New York, might be found at a given place in the city. The tailor lost no time in preparing a tran script of his account, not forgetting to charge interest lrom the time the debt was incurred. Taking a constable with him, who bore a legal process suited to the occasion, he soon arrived at the lodgings of the swindler. The constable was instructed to stand oil' at a little distance till a signal should indicate the time for kim to approach. The Quaker now rang the bell, and when the servant appeared, requested him to inform the gentleman of whom he was in search, that a friend wished to speak with him at the door. The man obeyed the summons, and soon both creditor and debtor were looking each other in the face. "How dost thou do?" kindly inquired the Quaker. " Perhaps thou dost not know me ?" " I believe I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance," politely answered our hero. " Dost thou remember purchasing a suit of clothes several years ago ol a poor tailor, and forgetting to pay for them ?" asked the Quaker. "O no," said the gentleman, blushing slight ly ; " you must be mistaken in the person. It cannot be me that you wished to find." " Ah! John! I know thee very well. Thou art the very man I wished to see. Thou hast on at this moment the very waistcoat that I made for thee. Thou must acknowledge it wa? of good stuff and well made, or it could not have lasted thee so long. "0 yes," said the gentleman, appearing suddenly to recollect himself; "I do remember now the circumstances to which you allude. Yes, yes?I had intended to call and settle that little bill before leaving Philadelphia, and you may depend on my doing so. I have come here to take possession of a large amount of property which has fallen to me by will. See! here is the advertisement which apprised me of my good fortune." Here he handed to the Quaker a New York paper containing a copy of the advertisement whose histofy we have given above. The Quaker looked at it with imperturabable grav ity, and contiaued-~ Yes, I see thou art in luck, but as my de mand is a small one, I think I must insist on payment before thou comest in possession of thy large estates." The proper signal here brought the consta ble intc the presence of the parties. The swindler was particularly astonished at the appearance of this functionary, who immedi ately began to execute his part of the drama. " W hat!" exclaimed the rogue, in an an?ry tone, " you surely have not sued me ?" " Yes, I have, replied the Quaker; "and thou shouldst be thankful that nothing worse has happened to thee." " Come in, then," said the debtor, finding himself fairly caught; "come in, and I will pay you if I must." The three went into the house together, and the slippery gentleman having ascertained the amount of the bill, paid it in full. The tailor having signed the receipt, placed it in the hands of his late creditor, with feel ings such as may be readily imagined. The swindler took it> and for the first lime glanced at the various items of which it was composed. He said nothing till he came to the last charge, which was "for advertising," when he broke forth? I " Halloo! what's this ? " For advertisingI That's an odd charge in a tailors bill. You're cheating me." " O no," coolly replied the Quaker, " that is all right. I have charged thee the cost of publishing the advertisement which thou just showed me." Here the swindler uttered a horrid oath, as he demanded, 4? Do you mean to say that you caused the publication of that advertisement?" " Truly I did," replied the Quaker, with the most provoking coolness. " You told a lie in it," quickly retorted the rogue. " Convince me of that," said the Quaker, " and thou wilt find me ready to acknowledge the fault." " You said I should hear something to my advantage, if I would come here." " Thou art mistaken," immediately res ponded the Quaker; I only promised that thou shoulst hear of something to advantage;" and is it not to the advantage of a poor tailor to collect an honest debt ?" " If I can catch you in the street," said the swindler, with an oath and in the deepest rage, " I'll give you such a cowhiding as will not leave the breath in your body." "Nonsense! now," said the Quaker, "if thou really intends to do any thing of that sort; we had better step out into the back yard and finish the business at once." The rogue was completely nonplussed by the coolness of the Quaker, and stood speech less and almost petrified. "Now," said the Quaker, good-naturedly, "let me give thee a piece of advice. When next thou hast occasion to get a suit of clothes, thou had better not attempt to cheat the poor tailor, but pay him honestly, for then wilt thy conscience not disturb thee, and thy sleep will be sweet and refreshing. Farewell!" There is no doubt of the literal truth of this story, as we received it some time since from the lips of the Quaker himself. CAUSE AND EFFECT.?A SKETCH FROM liEAL LIFE. BY JOHN S. ADAMS. PART FIRST.?THE CAUSE. " Hand me the bottle that I may drain it of its contents. Drink, drink and be free?free to speak, to act, to live while we do live, and to enjoy life whilst we have it; then, my boys, here's to freedom!" "Bravo! bravo!" shouted half a dozen voices, and as many glasses were emptied ; and yet again a bottle was uncqrked, and again the sparkling wine was drank. " Death to the fanaticism of the nineteenth century?to those who would deprive us of our social enjoyments. Health and long life I to those brave souls, kindred to our own, who would drink at the ruby fount, and glory in the sparkling wine." rhis last remark came frem a young man whose manners were gay and agreeable to some, as his words would indicate. Lawrence Neville was the son of a city mer chant. He had from earliest infancy enjoyed the company of the rich and gay?nursed, as it were, in the arms of affluence, and cradled in the lap of fashion. He knew not poverty | and had never experienced the bitter panes of ! adversity. 3 He had acquired such a taste for wine, by having its free use as water at his father's1 table, that to deprive him of it would be to take from him that he most loved. A few years passed by, and the effect , of a free indul gence of wine began to be seen; and this, to gether with his wayward habits, induced his father to send him into the country, that he might, if possible, by having the temptation removed, gradually relinquish those habits which required no prophetic eye to determine, i would inevitably lead to sad results. I He had not long resided in the town of Wightville, when, at his request, a club was formed, composed of a few gay and pleasure seeking young men like himself; a room was hired, and, at their expense, elegantly fur nished. Letters from the home of Neville, at first had some impression on him; but his nightly meeting of the club quite obliterated these impressions, and in a short time the letters were neglected or read with derision. The time to which the commencement of this brief narrative refers was five months after he became a resident ol W. The place wa$ the room above alluded to. The wine began to have its usual effect. " Come flow, Lawreuce, be civil," said one whose regard for order and decency had not been quite obscured in wine. " Civility aside, and decency to Tophet," replied the young man, who did not seem to relish the reprimanding remark. "Here," said he, after a short pause, as another bottle was handed him, 4 sparkling nectar,' forever, and cigars for the same period of time? ' Landlord fill the flowing bowl'? and charge the same to the Club of Seven." PART SECOND.?THE EFFECT. | 'Tis near midnight. The boisterous voices of the young men are no longer heard. Sleep lias overcome them, and they lie in various attitudes, unconscious of what passes around i aid unable to act were they conscious. , Nothing but deep and sonorous breathing, and I the steady ticking of a mantle clock, as moment I after moment of time passes to be numbered with those years " beyond the flood," disturbs the silence. The lights burn dim?and feeble the light they shed over the scenes of drunken debauchery. Yonder, yea, all around, lie broken bottles and remnants of old cigars; and everything appears in the utmost disorder.' The good town folks have retired to their | respective homes, and in the image of death enjoy refreshing sleep. The sky is dark?no moon looks calmly down?no twinkling star glimmering in its high station guides the traveller ; all is dark, all is silent, save the shrill whistle of the wind as it whirls around the houses, and amid the leafless trees. Half an hour has passed. What meant yon lurid glare? that light increases?now the sky seems but one vast sheet of flame, and the cry of " fire !"??fearful at any time, but more -so on a dark night?resounds through the streets. Higher and higher those flames arise, and large volumes of dense smoke ascendv. A crowd gather around, and endeavor, though in vain, to check the onward progress of the devouring element. * * # # * The night has passed?the day dawns?and a house lies in ruin. But is that all ? The Club is no more. Stupified by the wine, they became unconscious of their situation, and a lighted cigar falling upon some combustible material, was the cause of the'conflagration. Death chose to put an end to those habits that parental solicitude and the sad fate of thousands could not overcome. Their remains could hardly be distinguished from other ruins ; they were, however, at length found, and in the churchyard of Wightvilie, a small slab informs the traveller that below lie buried the remains of seven victims of wine, and imparts this salutary warning, beware of the first drop. THE RESPECTABILITY OF INTEMPERANCE. This to some may be strange language respectability of intemperance!?but it is no more strange than correct. If intemperance were not respectable, it would soon be extinct. We speak not of the respectability of drunken ness. Oh, no. That is loathsome?the attri bute of the loafer?companionship of the swine. But after all, what is drunkenness, but simply a part and parcel of a course of action which necessarily constitutes a whole, call it by what ever name you please. A company of gentle men meet at a dinner; they are of the highest order of society?the elite; perhaps men of high intellectual power, as well as wealth and fashion; they drink till the midnight hour, when, for some, it is well that no light of day shines in upon them. Is not the whole pri ceeding respectable? Was not the 6ccasion, the company, the place, every thing attached to it, of the highest order? and yet it consti tuted a scene of intemperance. There was no disgrace there> but rather honor?a respecta ble assembly. What constituted the intem perance? The last scene? the shout? the hurrah ? the silly speech ? the lewd song ? the flght ? By no means. It was the whole affair, from the first glass to the end. If not, where did temperance and intemperance begin ? >,Where did the respectability cease and* the disgrace commence ? It is a connected series; and until the whole is stamped in the public' estimation with the disgrace attached to the close, there is little hope of wiping out this reproach upon our country. "But, what.' dis raceful to go to a wine party?to Mr. B.'s inner, or Mrs. C.'s soiree?the very tip of respectability ! It can never be made disrep utable to drink moderately!" Then, intem perance never will cease. But is it so? \Ve know it is otherwise. It is disreputable now, at many of our public hotels, for a gelhtleraaii' to be seen with his bottle of brandy or bottle of champaigne; and we believe the time is hastening, when the incipient steps of drunk enness?the first glass, the genteel wine party, the Law, the Historical, and New England dinner, graced with bacchanals?will have the same opprobium, if not as deep, as belongs to those extravagant indulgencies which, by com mon consent, exclude a man from respectable community. And impressed with its import ance, we shall do all in our power?and we hope we shall have the concurrence of all who wish to see this curse eradicated from our land?in hastening it forward.?Journal Amer ican T. U. A HINT TO CONSISTENT LEGISLATORS. YVe do not see why license should not be as readily granted to our towns for the exclusive privilege of supplying its customers with ropes, pistols, bowie knives, dirks, &c., whenever they have a disposition to put an end to their existence, or to execute summary vengeance upon those towards whom they may have a grudge, as for selling ardent spirits. The one is as necessary for the peace and order of the | community, and to supply actual necessities, I as the other. We presume, if such privilege' should be made a matter of money-making, let the consequences be what they might, there would be a plenty readv to embark in it, and a law, perhaps, passed for their special benefit, provided the advocating such a measure would elevate a man to an important pffice.?West. Spectator,